Time For Us
by Yuisaki
Summary: For Aira, a fifteen-year-old girl who skates in secret, time is one of the many things she lacks as death looms closer and closer. As any other person would, she spends the twenty-four days of her life the best she can. But when she and two others are forced into a competition that she's not even sure her health can keep up with, can her body handle it before the competition ends?
1. Hour One

"_When the hours are told_

_With comrades the group will be born_

_When the hours unfold_

_Friendless, the two skaters shall mourn."_

* * *

_Voices calling my name._

Who's there?

_Needing to reach them. To talk to them one last time._

Please...

_A clock's hands ticking closer to twelve._

I'm alone.

_My own defeated smile being reflected in a pair of beautiful amethyst eyes._

No no no –

"_I love you."_

Why am I –

_Choking._

For what purpose was I born?

"_No! Aira, you promised!"_

Tell me!

"_This isn't happiness. All we're doing is dreaming up a better hell, someplace where we can be happy."_

_Beep._

_Unable to feel warmth._

"_Aira!"_

_Beep._

_Falling, falling, falling._

_Quiet, shuddering sobs, a broken voice whispering: "Is there even such a thing as hope in a worthless world like this?"_

I'm sorry.

"_There was never time for us."_

_Beeeeeeep._

* * *

I tapped my feet anxiously on the cold marble floors, faintly hearing the sounds echo every time my sneakers met the floor. I could see the annoyed looks the nurses were shooting at me, irritated that this fifteen year old was ruining the peace of the hospital without even caring.

And it was true. I didn't care; at least not at that moment. All I could feel at that moment was the abnormal heaviness lying on my hand. There was nothing on it, but in my mind, I could feel the blood on my hands. I could feel my blood slipping through my fingers, running down the sides of my wrist as I stared, silent with pure horror. Questions racing through my mind as I tried to figure out what it meant when I coughed out _blood, _of all things. My heart pounding in my ears, a constricting feeling tight around my throat and my chest while I attempted fruitlessly to stop the trembling and quiet crying sounds because my mom was just downstairs.

_Why did I cough out blood?_

_Am I sick?_

_What's wrong with me?_

And then the one that rang through my head over and over again.

_Am I dying?_

I shut my eyes tight and blocked my ears off from the world to that question. I felt like if I acknowledged it, it would become a possibility and the answer to all my questions.

Agitated even more now that I had been left alone long enough in suffocating silence with nothing but my thoughts, my tapping increased in speed. I rubbed my hands together for a few seconds, and then settled for leaving them still on my lap. _Calm down, Aira,_ I thought. It worked for about a minute before my hands were back to fidgeting and my feet tapping quickly against the marble floor.

"Will you stop that?" A nurse finally hissed at me, and then remembered her manners as she added crabbily, "Please?"

My hands and feet stilled. I stifled the urge to move my hands and feet again (because staying like _this, _alone with the demons I called my thoughts would not help with anything except my deterioration into insanity). I had to dig my nails into my hands, hard enough to draw blood and bring tears to my eyes, to stop from moving again.

It seemed like hours before I heard a sigh of relief and a muttered, "Thank god," accompanied by the nurse click-clacking away.

I bit my lip in frustration. What else was I supposed to do?

In answer to that question, I brought my right hand up, rubbing my left shoulder in small circles. Lately, it was like my body was breaking down. Coughing constantly, feeling like my feet couldn't support me without help, voice going hoarse, going on the scale to find out I lost ten pounds overnight to name a few.

The sudden weight loss that started a few weeks ago I didn't mind too much. It was mainly the reason I could start doing triple axels and if I was lucky, a quadruple lutz, so I just left it alone and ignored it.

A few days later though, my voice went hoarse for no reason at all. I didn't care, really. What use did my voice have other than speaking? Not much. And it wasn't like I spoke more than once in an hour, so again, I just ignored it.

But when the dizziness came, I was starting to get frustrated. I would go to the ice rink, skate around to get my muscles loose, like my normal routine. When I attempted to do a spin – a simple _spin_ I could do since I was four – I fell over. I stared at my feet in shock, trying to understand what happened while everybody else went on skating around me. Eventually I got up, and it never happened again – until I was skating, hands clasped behind my back in a carefree manner.

I fell then too.

That was when I left the rink and went home, trying to come up with an explanation on why I would be dizzy for no reason at all and fall without even knowing what happened. In the end, I never came up with an answer.

Then came the most frightening thing of all, besides not being able to control my own body: coughing so badly that tears sprang to my eyes, doubling over on the floor, clutching at my chest because it just _burned. _Sitting up and moving to wipe my mouth, only for a drop of _blood _of all things to fall onto my wooden floor. Being so scared to even move in fear that I would break down in my room, right then and there.

Trying not to think that I could die before I even reached sixteen.

"Ms. Harune Aira?"

I snapped myself out of my thoughts. "That's me." I stood up from my seat, brushing the nonexistent dust from my skirt.

"Oh." She seemed surprised that I was the next patient. Was I too young for the average patient? Before I could wonder more, the nurse smiled at me kindly as she said, "Right this way."

We walked down the brightly-lit hall in silence. I exhaled slowly, hoping to calm my racing heart. Normal. This was normal. All I was here for was a check-up, making it up because I had a skating competition days before. There was nothing wrong with me. I was fine. I wasn't sick.

I had almost convinced myself of it when we reached Dr. Hiroshima's – our family doctor's – door. That is, until a quiet voice whispered in my mind, reminding me of a fact that I really wanted to forget.

_Then why did you cough up blood this morning? Why did you lie to your mom that you were going to the library for a project, and not a check-up? She would've accepted that too. Why did you promise her that you were definitely going to come back home, no matter what?_

Why, why, why?

Why, indeed. Truthfully, I didn't have an answer.

Although, if I had one at that moment, I didn't think that I would have enough courage to open the door and walk inside like everything was fine when it obviously wasn't. I would've ran away. I wanted to run away. Every one of my nerves were screaming at me to run, run, run and to not look back. To run, and stay blissfully ignorant.

Swallowing all of those feelings down, I grasped the ice-cold handle, opened the door, and walked inside with a false confidence.

The door clicked shut behind me. Dr. Hiroshima spun his chair around to face me, his clipboard in hand. He looked up from it, amethyst eyes grave and empty. "Ms. Harune, I have some news for you, but I need to confirm if it's true first," he said. I stared, feet stuck to the ground, paralyzed with fear of what it could be. He looked at his clipboard again, saying words robotically like he was a machine.

In that second, I understood everything. If he stopped feeling, even for a second, it wouldn't hurt him as much when he delivered the news, whatever it might be. But I knew.

I was most likely dying as he spoke.

"We will need to do a PET scan to see if it is there, and to see if it is, where it has spread and how fast. I only have so much information from your physical exams from Gym class, and the check-ups in school can do little for checking if it is indeed there."

He waited for a second – maybe to gauge my reaction or something – before spinning back to his desk and scratching at the paper with his pen.

I gripped my wrist tightly, hoping to stop the trembling that suddenly overcame me. I bit my lip nervously and the metallic taste of blood that filled my mouth was enough to make me distract myself by speaking. "Excuse me," I said, and my voice seemed too loud in this quiet room. Or was that just me? Dr. Hiroshima turned around, one eyebrow raised as if to tell me to go on. I swallowed. "What do you need to confirm?"

He lifted his hand, pulling it through his hair in an almost agitated motion, and let it drop onto his lap. He closed his eyes. Opened them. And spoke. "Judging by your physical exams and monthly check-ups, I think you might have developed Stage Four lung cancer. Most likely terminal. I don't know if chemotherapy, radiation, surgery, or combined therapy can help with removing the cancer cells. Nor do I know if it can prevent or delay the cancer. It might not even help treat the cancer symptoms."

_Stage Four lung cancer, huh?_

I actually did a project on cancer in seventh grade, for my health class project on diseases and illnesses. I knew what that meant. If I did have cancer, and Stage Four at that, it meant the cancer cells had already spread to my body and it would be extremely difficult to prevent or remove or even delay.

I couldn't do anything besides wait with that knowledge ringing through my mind.

Though honestly?

All I could think was that I should have ran after all.

* * *

I felt cold.

No, the hospital room wasn't forty degrees lower than its usual seventy-two. No, I wasn't wearing almost no clothes like some of my classmates. If someone walked in at this moment, they would've never known that something was horribly wrong, except for my trembling hand that was clutching onto my skirt almost desperately and the doctor sitting stone-still.

Of course, the scan of a person's upper chest dominated mostly by red on the computer wasn't to be forgotten.

Why would that signal something was wrong?

_Because that was my body on the screen._

_Because the red was where the cancer was._

_Because it meant that I would die._

I had confidence in the fact that I could hide my feelings fairly well. After all, I was always known as the "older sister" since I was four, and even more since I was ten. I wasn't exactly allowed to cry or show to my younger brother and sisters that I was feeling down.

But in that moment, I was extremely glad that I came alone to the hospital for my check-up. So, so glad, because every part of my body was trembling uncontrollably and I knew I couldn't stop even if I tried; not that I could try though. I was completely and utterly numb. I probably couldn't even raise my hands to wipe away the tears that were flowing freely down my cheeks.

Couldn't, couldn't, couldn't.

What else couldn't I do?

I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't keep standing as I collapsed to my knees, still shaking.

And I couldn't live for more than a month, according to Dr. Hiroshima, who was unfortunate enough to inform a fifteen-year-old he had known all his life that she couldn't live past her high school years.

Why was it me? Why couldn't it be someone else? Why me?! My thoughts were screaming at me and it was all I could do to ignore it.

The worst part was, I couldn't even tell Dr. Hiroshima he was wrong. He was always right. He always knew everything involving our health before any of us, and he was never wrong. I had been always grateful for that ability, because it meant that my family was safe and healthy if he said we were. This time, although this time, I wanted him to be wrong so badly.

Because if he was wrong, that meant I could live longer than a month, or twenty-four days to be exact.

And then he spoke. "I'm sorry."

Suddenly, just like that, I could breathe again. I was used to hearing "I'm sorry." It was something I heard too many times, and it lulled me back into the sense of "normal."

_Everything's fine. Everything's fine. Everything's fine._

It took too little time for me to believe that everything was fine when it wasn't. Everything was wrong. I was sick. I had just been told I was going to die of lung cancer in twenty-four days, so why couldn't I feel anything?

"It's fine." The reply was automatic, even though my voice sounded entirely wrong, all peppy and casual. A smile made its way onto my face too easily.

What was wrong with me?

From my self-induced daze, I faintly saw Dr. Hiroshima moving out of his seat. For what? I thought. A second later, I felt a heavy weight on my shoulder, and my trembling became more prominent than before. I looked to my side, briefly wondering what it could be.

Oh, it's Dr. Hiroshima's hand. Is he trying to comfort me?

He was patting my shoulder rather awkwardly, and I almost smiled for real at the effort. He was a genuinely nice person, although a bit distant and flustered when it came to things like comforting people.

Unlike me, who wished for a second that it was someone else who should die than me.

I closed my eyes, taking a moment – time was so precious now – to effectively conceal my feelings. I didn't feel anything right then, but Dr. Hiroshima was smarter than the average person and I was aware of the fact that he could read me easier than I could read myself.

I opened my eyes. Finding my tears had already dried, I finally trusted myself enough to speak without thinking. "Thank you for telling me this, Dr. Hiroshima." I bowed. "Thank you for everything. Please, keep looking out for my family, and if you would, make sure they don't do anything drastic because of me."

"I will." He nodded firmly, resolution set in his stone-hard amethyst eyes.

"Thank you," I said, bowing once more.

"Take care, Aira."

"You too. Goodbye, Dr. Hiroshima."

The door closed with a barely audible click. I exhaled slowly, closing and leaning against the door tiredly as I did so. I felt my tears sliding down my cheeks, and I desperately hoped that nobody would come near me because I needed to be alone so badly.

Even that wish couldn't be fulfilled. I heard a voice seconds after I had the thought. "Miss, please remove yourself from the door if you have no business here."

I breathed out slowly again and opened my eyes. Forcing a smile on my face, I bowed apologetically. "I'm sorry. I'll just, um, be going now."

The nurse looked at me with pitying eyes, and I wondered if everyone could see that I was sick and not fine. I swallowed. Suddenly, the hallway seemed to close. My breath came quickly; there wasn't enough air in my lungs at that moment and I couldn't remember how to breathe.

_How do I breathe?_

I inhaled sharply, and apparently the quick intake was too much for my lungs – _that were going to be the cause of my death; how ironic was that, dying because of an organ that was supposed to help me survive. _I started coughing, and every time I tried to stop to breathe, a new bout of coughing began. It seemed then like I was going to die earlier than I expected, and all I could think was: _nononono I don't want to die no no no NO NO!_

"I don't want to die," I choked out, clutching at my chest.

I felt someone slapping my back. The nurse? "It's okay," she said.

My coughs gradually faded as she murmured soothing nothings in my ear.

After what seemed like forever, I placed my hands on my knees, panting. "No, no, no," I whispered, my voice hoarse.

"What?" she asked.

I turned to look at her, and I had no doubt that my eyes were frenzied, wide with panic. "No," I said again.

"What is it, dear?" she said, touching my aching shoulder – _I finally understood that my shoulder hurting was because of my cancer and everything is falling apart because of it and god, why couldn't it just _go away?! – and I flinched so hard my hands were near my chest in an involuntary action to protect myself.

"No, no, no" I said, shaking my head. "Don't touch me. I'm sick. Don't."

"It's okay -"

"It's not!" I screamed, taking a shaky step back. "You don't understand anything! Don't touch me. Stop. I'm sick and I'm ill and I'm dying and just – stay away!" I was only half-aware I was babbling about nothing. She moved forward, hands out in what was supposed to be a calm manner but all I saw was hands that were trying to kill me, like my own body was.

"No." Another step back."No!" I gripped my hands so tightly my knuckles turned white. "_No!" _I screamed.

I turned around, and my feet were moving before I knew it. I bolted from the hallway, startling the nurse to the ground. But I didn't care. I didn't help that nurse from the floor. I didn't spare a second glance at all the patients I knocked over in my desperation to get away from this hospital. I just ran, and ran, and ran until the hospital was far behind me.

I finally slowed to a stop on the frozen sidewalk in the middle of nowhere, gasping in cold air that burned my throat.

I closed my eyes, cutting off my sight from the dark night that held no warmth. I wanted to go home, where it was warm and toasty and _okay,_ but at the same time, I didn't want to go home where everything was perfect until I would ruin it with the news that I was dying.

I could see what would happen when I went home. My six-year old twin sisters Iru and Eru would be running through the house, fake-arguing about who got to borrow my clothes that were too big for them. My eleven-year old brother Itsuki would casually say, "Welcome home," and then grin deviously because he hid my favorite shirt again. My dad would greet me as soon as I stepped foot into the warm house, smiling widely and smothering me in a bear hug, one that never failed to bring a smile to my face. And then my mom would stomp over, a small playful smile on her face that only Iru, Eru, Itsuki and I saw when she smacked my dad on the head lightly with a wooden spoon. She would say, "Welcome home," too, giving me a brief hug and then dragging my dad into the kitchen because she was too short to reach the flour.

I would try to keep a straight face through it all, but in the end, I would roll my eyes and give them all an exasperated smile, saying, "All of you are crazy."

"But you love us all anyway," they would say back in unison.

Tears spilled over my cheeks.

_How many more times would I get to see that scene?_

I sank down onto the cement, pulling my knees into my body, and buried my head deep into my arms. My whole body shook with muffled sobs.

_How do people live with it and keep going?_

Waking up, forgetting for just a second that they had cancer and was going to die until they remember and realize that everything wasn't normal and okay and that they weren't _fine_; _how did people live like this?_

I didn't know the answer. But at the same time, I didn't _want _to know.

Because I think I did, that would be the moment I would truly, really break – that is, if I wasn't broken already.


	2. Hour Two

_"Gathered the twos' pride,_

_A discordant harmony the three will meet._

_Only when appearances are cast aside,_

_Will the song be complete."_

* * *

As I stepped out nervously from the room wearing clothes that were most definitely not mine, my eyes met amber ones and I hurried over to her, a grateful smile on my face. Maybe I could finally understand what was happening.

Any hope of that, however, was shattered when the girl first spoke.

"You don't belong here," the girl said, like it was a fact. Though it was true. I didn't belong here, and I knew it, which was why I came to her in the first place. As I opened my mouth to tell her that, she interrupted me with a strong, unwavering voice. "Your type is one who's not prepared to fight for what you want. If you come in here with an attitude like that, you're not going to get anywhere." With that said, the girl sent me one more side glance and walked away, her long orange hair swishing behind her.

I furrowed my eyes in confusion. "Wait!" I called. "What did you mean by that?"

She stopped and turned around, flashing a small smirk at me. "You'll just have to find out, newbie. Good luck."

And then she was gone, leaving me with more questions than I had wondered in the first place.

* * *

**Hour Two**

"It's simple, really. All you're going to do is go out there, perform, wave a bit, then leave." The President looked at me from under her glasses. "Was there anything else you needed?"

"Er, um… that is… uh…." Seeing my hesitance, the President waved me on impatiently. "Why am I doing this exactly?"

She stared at me for a few seconds. Then she burst out in laughter, making me jump two feet in the air. "What, that's all?" she got out, slapping her thigh.

I let her go on for about a half a minute before she regained her senses and straightened her glasses seriously. "The answer is, Aira, is that I see potential in you and you could make me a lot of money. And I happen to like money."

I sweatdropped. "But why should I exactly do it?"

She sighed. "Well, I didn't really want to use this. Frankly, Aira, you have a debt to pay off. That rink is only for professional skaters only, and any other trespasser will have to pay a hefty fine to pay for the usage. As you're not a Prism Star nor a professional skater, you currently have" - she brought out a large piece of paper out of nowhere and examined it carefully - "twenty-five thousand dollars to pay off. Or you could take the easy way out and just become a Prism Star or a professional skater. But by the looks of you, you don't have enough grace and balance to do that. Dance and singing, however, is a completely different matter. So?" she asked. "What will you do?"

I just stayed silent for a while, considering each option carefully. Thinking about it though, it wasn't really much of a choice. Twenty-five thousand that my parents had to pay for a girl who only had twenty-three days left, or become a Prism Star and enjoy skating for as long as I could.

Again, it wasn't really much of a choice.

"I'll do it."

* * *

"I'll be teaching you the basic steps. Okay, so first, you start off facing the front with both arms folded and your hands to your chest like this." I followed her instruction, already feeling nervous despite not actually dancing yet. "And then, in one sweeping motion, you move your left leg to the side, almost gliding to the side smoothly. At the same time, you'll bring your right knee up, along with your right arm and you should end the first three seconds like this."

She demonstrated the dance - only the first three seconds of it -, her left leg moving across the floor to face the wall and her right leg moved in sync with her right arm, grace and elegance following every step of the dance. She turned to face me again, an impatient look on her face. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go on."

It took me a few seconds to respond. "Y-Yes!"

_Er… How do I start off again? I'm pretty sure it was both arms folded like this…. And then I just move my left leg at the same time I moved my right side…. Like this…? No no, no, that's not it… Er…_

I fell flat on my face.

I looked up sheepishly, scratching my head in embarrassment. "How do you do this again?"

She sighed. "I have two hours. I suppose that's long enough." She looked at me with her amber eyes, a brilliant fire burning inside the wells. "Well then. In two hours, I'm going to drill every aspect of this dance, from how you move your shoulders, to where you put your toes, to how you even look while you do it. Don't slack, don't be lazy, and keep moving for every second of the hour. If I'm teaching you, you practice the earlier moves but you pay attention."

She walked towards me, a devil-like smile on her face. "Get ready, Harune Aira!"

"Y-Yes!"

* * *

Asechi Kyoko watched as Aira and Rhythm made their way out to the rink, where a small crowd had gathered, but was screaming just as loudly as any other audience for their stars. She could see it in that girl's eyes. A fire, just burning passionately, waiting to be released. That small spark of strong will, seen the first time Kyoko saw her jump, was what spurred her to make this decision in the first place.

She smiled to herself. She could recognize that fire anywhere. Heck, she saw it countless of times herself in the mirror back when she was still performing.

But this girl - Aira, she was going to go further both Sonata or she did.

And Kyoko would make sure of that herself.

Her adopted step-brother spoke up, interrupting her reverie. "Pres, are you sure this is a good idea?"

She turned to stare at Jun, an uncharacteristic flash of anger burning in her maroon-colored eyes. "Are you doubting my abilities to judge? A fellow skater, no less? Jun, you said you saw it yourself when she jumped. The presence of a star. So why are you asking me this now?"

"I'm not doubting your abilities in the least, Pres. It's just…" He pursed his lips. "So soon?"

Kyoko simply turned to the girl on the rink, who was slightly trembling in nervousness. "I feel like if it's not now, it won't ever happen for her. You can feel it too, right? That girl is dying."

Jun's eyes darted to the red-haired girl. "Yeah. I can. But wouldn't she be better spending them the way she wanted?"

Her answer was immediate. "No. This is her time and she belongs here, no matter what Mion or Rhythm might say. When she steps out onto the rink, only then can I see it."

Jun didn't question what Kyoko saw. He saw it himself after all. The aura of a star.

"But what about her family -"

"Harune Omi already accepted it. So did her father, most likely. They know it too, instinctively. That's what being a parent means."

"Not that you would know though, Pres. With your fiancé running off, or should I saw fiancés -"

Jun suddenly found his feet being crushed by her very sharp heel. "You can finish that sentence, and you won't have to amputate your toes. Frankly, I'm fine with either. Now, I don't think I heard you. Did you say anything?" Kyoko asked, her eyes glinting dangerously.

He swallowed. "It was nothing, Pres."

"That's a good boy, Jun."

* * *

"Rhythm, are you sure that this is a good idea -"

"We can't do anything about it. President's orders." Without saying another word, she put on her blades and walked experimentally, nodding to herself before gliding out confidently with her arms held up in the air.

"Attention guests: there is a change to the program as Takamine Mion is currently ill. Performing with Amamiya Rhythm as the replacement of Takamine Mion is Harune Aira. Please enjoy the show."

It's now or never, Aira. I stepped cautiously onto the ice, pushing with my feet so I could skate forward. I finally stopped in the center of the stage, slightly behind Rhythm whose back was straight and screamed confidence and grace.

I felt inferior standing next to her. She was absolutely beautiful and awe-striking, with her long shapely legs covered by plaid patterned stockings, a blue skirt with a white hem, and the azure vest clipped together with a tie (also blue) over it. It was like the coordination was made for her. Complete with the black little hat on her flowing orange hair, it wasn't surprising that her group was on the top; that she was on the top.

My eyes darted to different places of the crowd. Everywhere I looked, they had eyes of wolves, waiting to devour a lesser rabbit. I felt my cheeks heat up. That was what I was, in a nutshell. Just a lesser rabbit. My heart started to pound mercilessly against my chest, making me feel like I was slowly suffocating. The crowd's murmurs blurred into one and the world seemed to almost spin and twist and mix._ I can't…._

The music started blasting from the speakers, compelling me to jump instinctively and forget my fear for a moment. Followed by the jump was my foot giving way and me falling on the unforgiving ice, butt first - hard. "Ow…" I muttered. Nobody was paying attention. All eyes were on Rhythm, who had already started dancing, her arms and legs moving smoothly and almost reflexively as soon as the music had started. It was like standing in the presence of an actual celebrity.

The fact that she, Rhythm, my temporary teacher, was a star didn't hit home with me until I actually saw her on the ice. It hurt me, hit me like a blow to the face. I just sat there, stunned by how free and comfortable she seemed. It was like watching an unearthly being, performing a dance that you couldn't take your eyes off of, no matter how hard you tried. And her dance, her skating - there was no way anybody would want to take their eyes off of her.

I brought my knees together and sat there on the ground uncomfortably, trying not to warrant anyone's notice or - heaven forbid - take the attention off of Rhythm. Next to her, I just looked like a pink blob of nothing on the ice. Nowhere as near as elegant or graceful or fluid as Rhythm.

We were already into the second verse, and I hadn't moved an inch from my spot. My fingers were curling into my skirt and I could feel my face heat yet again - but in shame. What was I thinking, really? I could've paid off the debt by working as an assistant or an accountant or even a janitor. Skating out here, with a crowd that seemed like way more than a hundred - what was I thinking?

I wasn't, I thought absently, hot tears starting to prick my eyes. And then, a single voice from the crowd penetrated my closed ears, followed by another and another.

"What's with that jump?!"

"Show us the Prism Jump already!"

"What kind of show is this?!"

"Give me my money back!"

_Huh…?_ I raised my head, my eyebrows furrowed as I tried to understand exactly why they would protest.

And then I saw it, as she turned and skated around making a split-second eye contact with me.

_I dare you, _her fiery amber orbs almost seemed to say._ I challenge you, Harune Aira, to a showdown._

All the blood drained from my face in an instant as I realized what she was trying to say. Subconsciously, I started shaking my head vehemently. "No, no, no, no, no," I whispered harshly to myself. "I can't do that! There's no way I can…. It's just not possible and I can't -"

"Harune Aira!" The shout rang across the mall, bounced on its walls, and rebounded back to me, hitting my almost-feverish mind with unbelievable force. "Stand up, Aira! You're gonna put that costume to waste!"

"Eh?" My eyes went wide at the sudden realization that I was, indeed, putting this cute and beautiful costume to waste. But…

In a last-ditch effort, Jun yelled, "Listen to the voice of your costume!"

"My costume's voice," I murmured. "This costume they prepared for me is getting wrinkled. And it's such a wonderful, beautiful coordination too…"

I grasped the hem of my skirt tightly in my hands and closed my eyes, tears openly flowing out. "I'm sorry, clothes."

So? What are you going to do now?

"I have to stand up," I said, almost possessed and only half-aware I was saying my thoughts aloud. It seemed like the most natural thing to do now and I suddenly remembered how I used my legs when skating. Slowly… one step at a time.

I pushed off with my feet, closing my eyes contentedly as the slight wind blew the few loose strands of my hair back. "Amazing… The clothes are starting to sing."

A small pressure started to build in my chest; but unlike before, it wasn't heavy or uncomfortable. I felt free, light, and just graceful for once. Was this what Rhythm felt like when she skated?

I had the urge to keep this feeling, to keep skating if not for the purpose of this simple feeling. I felt like I could give up everything for it, even for just a second.

"Fly, Aira!"

My eyes snapped open as I looked at the ice with a smile - it could even be mistaken for a smirk - and I flew.

At that moment, I knew it. I just _knew. _

I knew could give up everything for it, and I probably would.

* * *

A/N: COMPLETELY UNEDITED AND UNCHECKED BUT ON THE BRIGHT SIDE:

IT IS FINALLY FINISHED. YES. I HAVE FINALLY GOTTEN THIS OUT OF THE WAY.

...Now to start with the next chapter...

I seriously wrote at least five drafts for this chapter before scrapping every one entirely and starting again. Ugh. Horrible case of Writer's Block. What a formidable foe.

So, because I have toiled and worked _so _hard for this, can you _please, please, pleaseee _leave me a review? I just love reviews and to get _nine (freaking nine! Do you guys know your own awesomeness because I certainly have experienced it firsthand ohmaigod just let me die in a happy hole or something jabfuiwebwue) _on the first chapter alone: oh mai god. I love you guys. So much.

**Notice - please read below if you had important things to do than read the first part.**

Although, one of the reviews was a flame. To you guys, who read this and think it's a piece of shit and don't like it at all, that's fine. But if you really don't like it, please don't leave pointless flames that won't help me improve. Honestly, I came here to improve and to get shot down like that on the first month: damn. I'm made of harder stuff (god that sounded so wrong) so I really don't give a shit.

But please remember: most of the writer's on are first-timers and are completely new to writing. If you're going to flame them, at least do it nicely (or not if you're that bitchy about it) and give some constructive criticism. Otherwise, it's pointless. It's stupid. It's petty. And it's so _fucking arrogant,_ because to flame someone, you at least have to have a backbone to support it. Do you think you're better than them? Do you think you have enough guts to post your writing on here, where people you don't even know can flame _you _or tell you it's good? Do you think that you are better than them that you don't have to bestow your oh-so-holy wisdom upon others?

If you can't answer those questions or answer them with a no, then you're a coward. If you answer them with a yes, you're a damn coward and a fucking liar. Tell me my writing sucks _after _you use your actual account, _after _your story is published, and _after _people like it better. Even then, I'll still work to improve and be better than you, because being beat by (wow alliteration) a writer who just shoots people down instead of helping them - that's insulting. That's _fucking insulting to me, and other writers. _Be ashamed. Be ashamed to call yourself a writer, and be ashamed of your parents who didn't teach you better with good morals.

Don't flame. Please. It's really hurtful to others and me too. Rage all you want in your head. AND FUCKING _KEEP IT_ THERE.

That's all.

-Yuisaki


	3. AUTHOR NOTE I KNOW I APOLOGIZE FOR THIS

I know, the dreaded author note. I just wanted to say that the chapter is going to take a little longer than just a month, because I need to go back and revise the previous two chapters and plan them out more thoroughly. Plus, the school just decided to be a douchebag and unleashed a shitload of tests, and so I have to get "sleep" and all that shit instead of sleeping at like, 12-4 am as I usually do. So, no more late-night working. Fuck.

This note will be replaced by the chapter when it's up, so yeah. Make sure to start from the beginning (I apologize but seriously, this story was literally inspired by a dream, not even kidding) because I just _need _to plan it out more and all chapters will be edited when the third chapter's up. Sorry.

BUT I SWEAR IT'LL BE BETTER THAN BEFORE I SWEAR NO TOMATOES NOOOO

-Yuisaki


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